


Tell Me So

by orphan_account



Category: Glee
Genre: Frottage, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-07
Updated: 2011-06-07
Packaged: 2017-10-20 05:21:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,374
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/209181
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>It’s obscene, almost. He wants to reach over and pull the gaping sides of the shirt together, maybe cover him up with his blazer.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Tell Me So

**Author's Note:**

> The first part of this was written as a flashfic in response to [this picture](http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v27/halona/Thatshirt.jpg). People on Tumblr clamored for me to continue, so a few hours later, I posted the second part.

Nothing could have prepared him for this.

If Kurt had texted him on his way to the Lima Bean to tell him that he would be showing up in a shirt that was unbuttoned to his navel, Blaine would have been intrigued. Speculative, maybe. Nothing in his wildest imagination could have matched this, though.

He nearly chokes on his coffee when Kurt sits gracefully across from him, only his posture preventing Blaine from seeing the entire wide, smooth expanse of his chest. A twitch of the fabric or a stretch of his arms and he might flash Blaine a nipple. His hands lock around his coffee cup. He has to or he will most definitely reach out and touch and once he does that, there’s no telling if he’ll be able to stop.

It’s obscene, almost. He wants to reach over and pull the gaping sides of the shirt together, maybe cover him up with his blazer. That girl at the next table over is  _staring_  and Blaine has no choice but to lay his hand over Kurt’s in an overtly possessive gesture. When she notices, her eyes meet his briefly and Blaine does his best to telegraph,  _he’s mine, bitch_. She looks away sheepishly and Blaine turns back to his boyfriend with a triumphant smirk. His adorable, lovable, shockingly  _hot_  boyfriend. 

“Something wrong, Blaine?” Kurt asks, his eyes wary and confused.

“Just staking my claim,” Blaine tells him, stroking the back of Kurt’s hand with his thumb.

Kurt scoffs. “Not necessary. Despite what my fellow glee clubbers may think, I’m not in very high demand.”

Kurt smiles a little bitterly and it twists at Blaine’s heart. How can this beautiful, gorgeous, completely lust-worthy boy not feel wanted? Obviously he hasn’t been doing his job correctly. He stands, grabbing both of their coffee cups and Kurt looks up at him in confusion.

“Where are you going?”

“We’re going to your house. It should be empty for the next few hours, right?” Blaine asks, his thoughts already racing with exactly how he can change Kurt’s mind.

Kurt nods and the way he’s turned to face Blaine, his elbow propped on the back of the chair, his shirt falls open just the slightest bit more and Blaine can’t help it anymore. He sets one of the cups of coffee back on the table and puts his hand on Kurt’s neck, his thumb grazing over his exposed collarbone and Kurt stares up at him with round eyes.

Blaine leans close and whispers in his ear, “Well then let’s go. I’m going to  _show_  you how much you’re wanted.”

\--- 

This could easily be the pinnacle moment in Blaine’s life. He’d like to think that someday, maybe in the not too distant future, he could experience a moment even better than this one. He isn’t greedy, though. If this is all he gets; Kurt laid out beneath him, his bare chest heaving and his lips wet and swollen and parted with want, his back arched so he can rise up to meet Blaine’s roaming hands... Well. Sure, he may  _want_  more, but he could easily die a happy man right this second. 

God hasn’t decided to strike him down yet, though, and Kurt shows no signs of wanting to stop or slow down or anything but for Blaine to stop admiring him from so far away. He reaches for Blaine with insistent hands and he goes easily. His previous position, sitting back on his heels, his legs straddling Kurt’s hips, had allowed him to touch but not to taste. Tasting is better, he decides as he presses the flat of his tongue against Kurt’s nipple. Kurt writhes beneath him and his breath catches in his throat so Blaine tries the same thing with the other one. He gets a whine this time and Kurt pulls at his hair a little. He looks up at Kurt from under his eyelashes and he looks completely wrecked. 

His artfully tousled hair from earlier has devolved into utter disarray and his face and neck are red and burning hot to the touch. There’s a huge purpling hickey right over his left collarbone, probably from when Blaine caught him on the stairs earlier, and they hadn’t even bothered to push his shirt all the way off, just left it to pool on either side of his torso when Blaine tugged it free from his pants and unbuttoned it in between kisses. Kurt will probably complain about wrinkles later. Maybe. Maybe he’ll be too blissed-out from Blaine’s kisses to care. 

Kurt tugs him closer until their mouths are once again aligned and he sucks hard on Blaine’s bottom lip while he undoes the knot on his tie. “This isn’t fair. I want to see you too.” 

Blaine is a big believer in fairness so it’s only right that he strips out of his shirt so fast he’s surprised he doesn’t break the sound barrier. His blazer is... somewhere.  _Oh God, please don’t be on the stairs or in the hallway_ , he thinks. Then Kurt pulls him down for another kiss and he can’t think at all anymore because there’s nothing between them now, not even air. 

He straightens his legs out a bit so he can get even closer, completely forgetting that there was a very distinct reason why he had been hovering carefully over Kurt’s hips. A very hard, very  _sensitive_  reason. 

Kurt stills beneath him and Blaine breaks away to stare down at him, his hips already moving back, away, off. He looks a little shocked and unsure and Blaine can’t stop the words that tumble out of his mouth. 

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. It’s just that you’re  _so hot_. We can stop. I’ll put my shirt—Mmph!” 

His babble thankfully gets cut off by Kurt’s lips. Kurt’s soft, wet, fucking  _delicious_  lips. He sort of falls back on top of Kurt, all of the will to hold back and stay away just draining out of his limbs. Now that their hips are back in contact and he isn’t terrified that his boyfriend is going to kick him out for being a pervert, he can feel just how much Kurt is enjoying this too and  __. Kurt gives an experimental roll of his hips and they both breathe in a simultaneous gasp of air.

Blaine props himself up on his elbows and stares down at Kurt regretfully. “Kurt, if you want to stop at all, now would probably be a good time. Or we should at least slow down.” 

Kurt rocks his hips up again and their dicks slide against each other through four terrible, awful, despicable layers of clothing. “I don’t want to stop. I want to keep going. I thought you were going to show me how wanted I am,” he says. 

Their hips rock together and this time he’s not sure if Kurt was the instigator, or he was. It doesn’t matter. Kurt wants to keep going. His mouth latches on to Kurt’s neck, low and just below where a collar would lay, assuming he doesn’t walk around with his shirt half open like he did today. He sucks on the skin and rolls it gently between his teeth before he leaves a trail of hot, wet kisses up to his ear. 

He kisses the tip of it lightly and thrusts their hips together before he whispers, “Never, ever doubt that I want you. It took me far too long to finally see you but now that I have, I’m never letting you go.” 

There’s no more talking, then. Just the sounds of their short and heavy breaths and the soft, wet sounds of their lips and tongues tangling together and the occasional embarrassing creak of the bed. 

Kurt comes with a low, barely there moan, scratching and clawing at Blaine’s sweaty back and Blaine follows him shortly after, his face buried in the crook of Kurt’s neck and his body shuddering with aftershocks. He’s never come so hard in his life and his head is spinning and the boy that he maybe, possibly,  _probably_  is in love with is rubbing his back in soothing circles and scratch what he said earlier.  _This_  is the pinnacle moment of his life.


End file.
